


Just After Ten

by JaneDavitt



Series: Desk Job [5]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Knot a Problem'. Mike shows up on time, but doesn't get quite what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just After Ten

**Author's Note:**

> This is part five of the Desk Job series, but chronologically comes directly after part one, 'Knot a Problem'.

"No cuffs? I was expecting cuffs."

Mike's not whining. He _isn't._ Just wondering when all the kinky fun he'd been promised is going to start.

Okay, so he's naked and Harvey's dressed for work: suit, shirt, tie, shiny, shiny shoes. That's disconcertingly arousing. He's lying on his back on Harvey's bed, acutely aware of how....open everything is in Harvey's apartment, and Harvey's sitting on the edge of the bed, relaxed, but with something darkly intent in his eyes. That's hot. It's still not kinky.

Harvey straddles him, a smooth, rapid change of position from _there_ to here and Mike yelps, startled. Harvey's charcoal gray trousers are getting interesting creases but he doesn't look like he cares.

"Why do I need them?" Harvey circles Mike's wrists with long, strong fingers and positions Mike's arms over his head, spread wide. "I can hold you down any time I want."

The pressure of Harvey's fingers becomes a painful tightness, bruisingly hard and Mike's breath leaves him in a soft, panicked rush even as his dick tells him it approves.

His dick's weird. He's always thought so. His nipples are so hard they ache. They're weird too.

Oh God, he wants this. Wants it to happen, to be real, not just words said in an office by a man who's taken over his life, reshaping it to suit himself. _It's Harvey. If anyone can deliver, it's him, right?_

"Or I can let you go and tell you to stay put, like a good little puppy."

Mike smirks and snaps his teeth. No way he's going down -- heheh -- without a fight, even if they both know with his dick this hard, it's a token one. "Woof-woof."

Harvey smiles at him without saying a word. It's a confident, even indulgent smile, sending the message he can handle anything Mike throws at him. 

"Stay," he says absently. "I want to look at you. I'll tell you if I want you to move."

He slides off Mike and stands, walking slowly around the bed, lips pursed thoughtfully as if he's debating whether or not Mike meets the standard he's set for people allowed in his bed.

Mike's showered and he'd been wearing clean clothes before he'd been told to take them off, but he feels grubby under that searching stare. He's uneasily aware his hair needs trimming and he's got a cut on his chin from shaving in a hurry. His nails aren't exactly squeaky clean, either. Fucking bike chain.

It's strange to lie with his arms up like this. Harvey can see his armpits. Why that matters, he doesn't know. Probably because Harvey's looking at them; the soft, sparse brush of pale brown hair, the odd freckle showing through -- nothing worth looking at really.

He wants to squirm, but he holds still, unless the way his ass cheeks clench counts as moving. From Harvey's quick, cross frown, it does.

He relaxes. Gives Harvey a pleading, hopeful look. It works. As Harvey's face softens, Mike does a triumphant boogie inside his head, where even Harvey can't see, and awards himself a point.

Harvey's still in the lead, but Mike's on his heels.

Harvey doesn't stop looking. It's boring, then irritating, then unendurable. Between one breath and the next, it becomes arousing.

Heat pools in Mike's face, his belly, his balls, weighing him down so that staying still is easier. He's breathing in shallow, quick pants, his gaze fixed on Harvey's face, though Harvey's not looking at his.

"Turn over," Harvey says after a while. "Just roll. Keep your hands up."

He moves in creaks and grunts, an ungraceful scramble. It's a comfort to have his face buried in a cool pillow, his eyes closing even though they don't need to. He tries to settle in place and stay still again, but he can't help the involuntary lift of his ass. It shames and thrills him, that mute offering, and he wants Harvey to know that it wasn't disobedience, that he really couldn't help it.

From the chuckle he hears, Harvey got it.

A rush of resentment and impatience washes away the lust. "So do something. Fuck me, spank me -- or are you having second thoughts?"

"I should be." The bed dips under Harvey's weight and Mike twists his head so that he can see something, anything, of the man he's exposed himself to so comprehensively.

He gets a knee and some thigh -- and a hand, palm upward, fingers curled. He thinks of where that hand, those fingers, might go, what they might do to him, and shudders longingly.

Why can't Harvey just _do_ it? Before they die of old age or Mike loses his nerve.

"This is stupid. Reckless. Doomed from the start." Harvey settles his hand on the back of Mike's head. "Feel flattered. I don't care."

Huh. Mike smiles and lets the smooth pillowcase soak it up. He likes that. 

"Over again. I want to see you when you grinning."

Okay, that's just--

On his back again, blinking up at Harvey, Mike reconsiders his smug elation. Harvey's looking unimpressed. _So give me something to_ do _damn it. Something that isn't just lying still_.

"Why did you come here?"

"You told me to." The words pop out, a blurted confession. It'd been an order. He'd liked that way too much.

"And you were on time."

"Yeah." Another confession. Mike had thought about being late, just to show Harvey...something, but somewhere on the way over, it'd stopped feeling like the best way to make Harvey see he was into all of this, but not a fucking pushover, and more like a failure.

He'd felt his heart thud hard and strong, hurting his chest when he'd realized that he might still be late because of traffic.

"I told you what happened after you came in would be up to me."

Mike smiles. "Yeah, but, you know, there's that thing." Harvey raises his eyebrows in silent inquiry and Mike shares some research from memory. "The, uh, sub's in charge, right? I'm the one with all the power and you're there to make me happy." Sub. Did he really just call himself that? _Is_ he that? Officially? Shouldn't there be some kind of test, an exam he has to pass? Kneeling 101 or Bondage for Beginners?

That line of thought cuts off, snapped like raw asparagus.

Harvey's looking incredulous. If Mike took a picture and posted it online, he wouldn't need to caption it 'WTF?' because it's all there in Harvey's face.

"I think you're under a misapprehension," Harvey says with careful slowness. "You're not my sub. You're not even _close_ to being -- Never mind. If you want to be in cuffs, you're out of luck because I don't have any. Cuff links, yes. I could get some, I suppose, but you'll have to make me believe you deserve them."

He's diminished. But not demeaned. There's bewilderment in Harvey's eyes, shock even. Mike's gone too far, too fast. Okay. He does that. He can pull back and let Harvey catch up.

Mike wets his lips. "Tell me how I do that."

Harvey's hand hovers over the taut thrust of Mike's cock, sticking up brave and proud, undaunted by any of the chatter. To get it to lower, curve, grab becomes Mike's sole goal in life, but Harvey closes his hand into a fist and withdraws it.

"This was a mistake. Get dressed."

"Hell, no!" Mike sits up, registering the dull ache in his arms as he lowers them. "Harvey, please. Not a mistake. I guess we're on different pages, but it's the same book."

"Which one? D/s for Dummies?" Harvey's lip curls in distaste, but Mike gets the feeling it's directed at Harvey, not him. "You don't know what you're doing or what you want. After yesterday in my office, I assumed too much."

"Look, what I let you do last night was a first, yes, but if you think I didn't want it, you're nuts." Mike stabs his finger down. "Dick. Hard. I want this. I want you."

"You want to be fucked and spanked, possibly in a different order." Harvey shrugs. "That's available anywhere. That's easy. I don't do easy."

Mike exhales, frustration bubbling up. This isn't going to plan. "You're not telling me anything I don't know. I work for you, remember? And there's never been anything you gave me to do that I couldn't handle." He wrinkles his nose as memories surface. "Well, maybe a few things. But I worked out a way to get someone else to do them for me."

"Not exactly a solution when it comes to this." There's a flicker of amusement showing. "I don't want a substitute for you, a stand-in for the difficult parts. All or nothing, Mike."

The thought of Harvey doing this with someone else dries his mouth with jealousy, the emotion as unexpected as it is strong. It has to have happened in the past, other men, other women on this bed, obeying drawled-out orders and being rewarded with rare, fleeting smiles, but not now. Not when Harvey has _him_.

"I can do it. All of it."

"You don't know what that means." Harvey deals out a reproving tap to Mike's face, two fingers, the contact brief, the effect lingering. "You got into trouble yesterday for working with insufficient data and now you're doing it again."

"I got just what I wanted." Mike gestures at the bed, himself, Harvey. "I'm here. You're here. Can we stop talking and just _do something_?"

Harvey grins, unexpected, but rueful. "We were. Or I was. And you seemed to be enjoying it too."

Mike remembers lying there quietly, Harvey's gaze stripping him down further. He'd been impatient, waiting for everything to start. Discovering it had and he'd missed it is embarrassing.

"You were hard," Harvey reminds him. "So was I. I didn't expect you to be so..." Harvey's not flustered. Harvey doesn't do flustered, but he's close to it. "Well. You're here. I suppose you've earned something. What do you want? To go over my knee? To get fucked? Pick one, then you can go home."

He'd wanted a test. He's good at those. He cheats in a way, but not when it comes to the questions.

This test's so easy, it feels like there's a trap somewhere, but he can't see it.

So Mike answers it.

Goes to his back. Arms above his head, legs spread wide enough that he's hiding nothing, his breathing regular, unhurried, calm.

There's a pause long enough to make his lip tremble as he fights the urge to bite down on it, but eventually Harvey stands, adjusts his tie and walks to the foot of the bed.

It must be a good view from there, because it's past ten o'clock when he finally takes off his tie and loosens it enough to slide over Mike's head and around his neck, the silk heavy and warm.

It's left loose, but it's a collar of sorts and Mike comes when Harvey's hand grasps it and Mike's cock at the same time, comes without a kiss, on a rising wave of happiness that surprises him more than the way Harvey's voice breaks as he says Mike's name.

He's home by eleven. Harvey's told him to have an early night.


End file.
